User blog comment:Biggren/The Mice of Wintor/@comment-26024035-20160424193401

Jhoza soon had his full contingent prepared, thirty strong. The assembled rats, weasels, stoats and ferrets stood about uncertainly as they waited for Jhoza's orders. The marten was standing a little ways away from them, staring across the fields where he knew the woodlanders had fled, paws clasped behind his back. Shafka, his armored rat lieutenant, approached him uncertainly. "Er, sir..?"

"Ssh." The marten narrowed his eyes, small ears flicking as he listened in to the rustling of the wind through the tall grass, watched the swaying of the plants. Then, he drew his sword- a beautiful steel sabre with a leatherbound handle and sapphire pommel- and jabbed it towards the field, uttering one word. "Now!"

The vermin soldiers moved forward, some grim-faced with uncertainly, others smiling with surety, as they began their search for the rebellious villagers.